


Steve Always Helped

by DumpsterDiving101



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes Returns, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Communication Failure, Dom/sub Undertones, Hostage Situations, Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Sam Wilson, Unreliable Narrator, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 02:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17654405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DumpsterDiving101/pseuds/DumpsterDiving101
Summary: After the whole Triskilian incident, Bucky remembers Steve and turns himself in to SHIELD to see him again. Unfortunately, Steve wants nothing to do with him. Bucky is stuck at SHIELD, and no matter how many times Sam Wilson tells him he’s safe, he knows better.(AKA SHIELD thinks Bucky is a crazy, dangerous killing machine when in reality, he's just in grief over his apparent break up.)





	Steve Always Helped

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The whole “you want the moon” speil is from “It’s A Wonderful Life” which came out in 1946. In this universe, it came out in 1936, because I’m the author and I said so.

 Bucky is… Bucky.

 The memories rush back to him in waves. On the helicarrier, they’re painful, scalding and sharp against the inner workings of his mind. It’s as if his brain had been completely empty before, and then just one look at Steve Rogers’ face and memories flooded back, drowning him. His mind had to readjust to make more room for all the images he suddenly had. It was like wandering into an attic in the dark and turning on the lights only to find shelves and shelves of movies. He hadn’t watched them all yet— they weren’t all  _ his  _ memories, not yet— but they were there. The potential was incredible. 

 They were painful on the helicarrier, but as he hung from one arm and watched Steve plummet into the water, he knew he had to save him. There was no avoiding it. This man knew something, was something, and Bucky never enjoyed destroying intel. 

 So he dropped. He swam after him, saved him, and dumped him on the ground. Ideally, he would’ve taken him, but the man, the  _ Steve _ , was too injured. His allies would have to take him in and help him. Bucky would find him later. 

 Bucky could hear emergency vehicles in the distance as he walked away. He reset his shoulder against a tree and then let himself vanish. Disappearing was one of the things he could do without thinking about it. He took a path through the nearby foliage into the city, then slipped through until he had a hoodie to conceal his identity. He was supposed to report back to the building that was destroyed. He was supposed to kill the Captain and report back. 

 He kept going in the opposite direction. Soon, he found a bolt hole to spend the night and curled up, metal hand gripping a loaded gun hidden beneath his clothes. He’d been given something, and there was no way he could be recaptured now. He had something. He was in possession of images in his mind, images that were more valuable than anything he’d ever had before. Bucky went through him as his body settled: there was a girl, small, brown hair, mauve lipstick, giving him a look like he was the biggest idiot in the world; a smaller  _ boy _ , giving him a look like he was the actual sun; and the absolutely undeniable fact that he had a  _ goddamn name.  _ Bucky Barnes. Bucky Barnes. 

 He slept peacefully, the images and name bouncing around his mind. He had woken up with nothing, and now he had an infinity. 

  
  


————————

  
  


 The next day, decisions had to be made. He had to find Steve, and maybe provisions too, depending how the first objective went. All it took was one scan of the public newspaper to find out which hospital he was at. Bucky strolled in casually, going straight past security and up the stairs. No one would stop a man who walked with easy purpose, so that’s what Bucky embodied, even though his heart was thudding. He remembered being a person, but he couldn’t remember how he did it. Personhood was a costume he could put on at will, but it was flimsy and made by an amateur. He could do stealth work, but he didn’t know what he’d do when he was expected to be a real person. Maybe Steve would help. Bucky had memories of Steve helping with lots of things. He had memories of…

_ Oh. _

__ There was a new one. A memory had appeared without warning, a startlingly clear image of Steve leaning over him, his hand under Bucky’s pants. They were kissing, and

_ Oh.  _

__ Bucky had forgotten all about sex. Steve would have to re-teach him. 

 Bucky encountered no security until he got up to the second highest floor. There, suits guarded what could only be Steve’s room. 

 Bucky couldn’t even see the man and his heart was already thudding, an endless chant of  _ Steve! Steve! Steve! Steve!  _ He couldn’t wait any longer, he had to see him, he missed—

 “Excuse me sir, do you have proof of access to this wing?” A security guard said, stopping him. He wore holsters on his ankle and belt, along with a badly concealed baton. Cute. 

 “Yes,” Bucky said, not really having a plan after that. He tried not to let it show, though he knew his eyes grew wider. “I’m here to replace you. Shift change.”

 “What? But we just changed shift an hour ago. Where’s your badge?”

 Bucky dug around in his pants for a moment. The other guard was lurking behind him, about as subtle as a bull in a china shop. Bucky could take them out, but then what? He’d have to hide the bodies, but someone would notice soon enough. He would have a limited window of time to get into Steve’s room. If Steve was awake, he could call off whatever clumsy reinforcements he may have, but if he wasn’t? It was too risky. Bucky’d have to be quick. 

 Bucky yanked out his handgun and whirled around, hitting Ugly #2 in the head with the butt of it and ducking Ugly #1’s attack. He grabbed onto Ugly #2’s collar to slow his descent as he grabbed Ugly #1 by the shirt, yanking him close. From there, he pressed two fingers against his sternum until he passed out. The entire fight was over in moments, and both guards were subdued without a single sound, not even a thump. 

 Bucky turned to drag the bodies away, quietly pleased with his work, when he found himself face to face with another man. This one was dressed in a fine suit, and though he looked shocked, he lifted his red-gauntleted hand and fired a beam of energy at him. Bucky dropped the bodies, rolling backwards, but the beam of energy still hit him, slamming him against the wall. He growled and fired three shots, but the man was already hidden behind the corner. He had more combat training than Uglies 1 & 2 then. Fine. Bucky could handle it. 

 What he couldn’t handle was another blast sending him rolling. The elevator doors opened and a third blast sent him into them. The man stormed forwards, his body now encased in an entire suit that gleamed red and deflected all of Bucky’s shots, and fine, maybe Bucky didn’t want to fight him. It didn’t matter; he slammed his fist into the CLOSE DOORS button of the elevator and held it there, smiling to himself as the doors closed before the man could get to him. The elevator began to sink, when it shuddered and stopped. 

 Oh, fuck him. 

 The Iron Man must have done something to the control panel. Goddamnit. Bucky would just have to take the hard way. 

 He knocked the ceiling out of place and climbed through in one smooth movement, grabbing ahold of the cables and shimmying up. The Iron Man probably wanted to trap him in the elevator. It was a good plan if you were fighting a normal soldier. 

 Bucky climbed the cables to the topmost doors and pried them open, climbing through smoothly. He had approximately ten seconds until he was found out. He could hide in one of the rooms on his current floor, except he’d be found almost immediately. He could take the stairs, which would only be  _ crawling  _ with agents. Or. 

 He ducked into a room and opened the window, slipping out smoothly. The unconscious man in the bed— Timothy Simons, Stage 4 Colon Cancer— looked like some fresh air would do him good. Bucky climbed down the side of the building, stopping to peer in through Steve’s window. 

 Steve was unconscious, hooked to about four different machines. He looked pretty bad, but also super goddamn amazing. The old Bucky had seen that man  _ butt-ass naked.  _ Lucky him. The new Bucky hoped for the same honor. 

 He let himself stop and stare for a few moments. Steve was… jeez. He was beautiful, real fuckin’ pretty, even as banged up as he was. Bucky wanted to hold his hand. He wanted to check his bandages. He wanted to nurse him back to health. Just looking at Steve actually made Bucky’s heart  _ warm,  _ like a toaster oven or some shit. Goddamn. 

 Bucky made himself keep climbing. He’d find Steve later, when the stupid Iron Man wasn’t there to get in his way. But for now, at least he knew his location. He knew he was being cared for. Bucky was glad he’d let Steve’s allies have him back; their security detail was sloppy, but Steve was being protected and helped. Maybe Bucky would kidnap him when he was a little better. 

 That triggered another memory which caused Bucky to smile the whole way down the side of the building. Him and his Stevie, holding hands with their legs dangling over the edge of a fire escape. “What do you want? You want the moon?” Bucky asked, making his voice lower, like he was imitating someone from a movie. “Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon.” 

 “I don’t want the fuckin’ moon, you dope,” Steve said, smiling at him fondly. “I want the Grand Canyon.”

 “The Grand Canyon is fucking expensive, who do I look like, fucking Rockefeller? If you want the Grand Canyon you’re gonna have to buy it with your own dime.”

 That made Steve laugh, loud and obnoxious. “Are you tryin’ to tell me that you’ll give me the moon, but not the Grand Canyon? What, is the moon cheaper?”

 Bucky shrugged, nonchalant. “Well, yeah. I mean, you have to adjust for inflation—”

 That caused another bout of big, ugly laughter from Steve. Someone from a nearby building shouted “Knock it off!” And Steve retorted, without pause, “Suck my dick, Cohen!”

 Bucky was in love. Oh, Bucky was in deep. He wanted to wrap this dumb little bitch up in blankets and carry him down to a chapel, just like that. He wanted to marry the hell out of him, then lock him in a padded room where he couldn’t jump off of high objects or get himself beat up by the neighbors. 

—————————

 Bucky made several more attempts at seeing Steve, but his security was ramped up to eleven. There must have been another threat as well, because Bucky knew Steve wouldn’t let them do all that just to keep little old him out. If there was a threat, then Bucky would have to help them secure the building. If Hydra came after Steve, Bucky wasn’t leaving his protection up to the fucking Tin Man. 

 Bucky managed to stay concealed as he memorized the guard schedule. In theory, he knew exactly when the best time to slip into the hospital room was, except Steve was never fucking alone. Once, Bucky managed to slip in when both Steve and his guard, Sam, were asleep. Bucky checked Steve’s bandages quickly, making sure everything was secure, then had to make a decision. Steve could probably climb down the side of the building with him, but he’d need to be conscious enough. They had a window of a minute or so where they could also try the stairs, but the risk of being caught was too high. Bucky could try something else too: take out Sam and barricade them in, but that caused too many problems. The Iron Man would come back, and Bucky really, really didn’t want to deal with him again. 

 Finally, he decided he’d have to take Steve through the window. He carefully tied off the IV going into his arm and then took it off. Steve would only have minutes to get the heavy painkillers out of his system, but it’d be enough. Bucky could buy them more time. 

 He stalked over to Sam, considering his gun, but Steve probably didn’t want him dead. Instead, he went behind him and put one hand around his neck to gently cut off his air supply and the other over his mouth, to muffle any noises. Sam woke up almost instantly, flailing and making helpless noises behind his hand. He wasn’t able to get him off. Finally, his eyes fluttered closed and he went limp, and Bucky let him go. He made quick work of binding Sam to his chair, and was just about to gag him when a quiet voice went “Bucky?” 

 Bucky turned and grinned. It was, well. Grinning wasn’t one of the human things he was very good at. He knew that. He was working on it. 

 Steve didn’t grin back. “What are— Why did—”

“Shh…” Bucky said, holding one finger in front of his lips. He finished gagging Sam quickly, then pulled out a knife, moving towards Steve. “This will all be over soon.”

 He’d have to check for restraints, making an ankle monitor. Steve went deathly still as Bucky moved forwards, his breath catching on every inhale. “Bucky?” He whispered. 

 Bucky moved closer, pulling down Steve’s gown to pull off the electrodes on his chest. Steve was tense, but didn’t move against him. 

 There was a healing gash on Steve’s chest, more of a scab now. Bucky remembered it. It was his fault. He held his knife to the wound, trying to make sure he was right, when the door opened. 

 “Hey Sam, I’m here to save you from babysitting—” 

 The man stopped mid sentence when Bucky threw the knife at him. Instead of dodging it, he caught it, looking incredibly surprised. Bucky understood why he and Steve were on the same team: they were both maniacs with low self preservation. 

 Just then, Sam woke up and started making “Mm-mm-mm!” noises through the gag, and Steve hissed and pulled away from the metal hand against his skin. 

 Bucky drew a gun, but the other man was faster, dropping his cup of coffee on the floor and aiming with one hand. He winced when the coffee splattered against his ankles. “Aww, coffee.”

 “No! Clint, don’t shoot! Bucky, don’t… just… no!”

 Bucky wasn’t going to win this fight. Gunshots were too loud. Steve better appreciate all the work he’s putting in, because Bucky feels pretty fucking ridiculous. 

 He throws his gun like a crazy person and swings out the open window, climbing down until he was only three stories up and dropping. He sprinted away, ducking out of sight from the window. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


 More and more memories came every night, until it got to the point where Bucky physically could not take it anymore. His Stevie was hurting, and he needed to see him. He’d tried subtly, but that hadn’t worked. It was time to face the music. 

 Bucky armed himself to a reasonable degree and strode straight into the new SHIELD headquarters. There were guns on him instantly, and after assessing the situation, he sighed internally and fell to his knees. He put his hands up in surrender. 

 A woman with blonde hair came forwards, gun leveled at his head. Her badge read  _ Agent Sharon Carter.  _ “Stay down,” she threatened. 

 Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  _ He _ was the one who got on his knees in the first place; what, did they think he’d change his mind?  _ Oh, oops, this is the wrong federal government intelligence agency. I guess I’ll go. _

__ More agents showed up, until there was an almost ridiculous number. There was also a full STRIKE team in armor and all, guns all pointed at him.  _ Goddamnit Rogers. This better be worth it.  _

__ Bucky thought back to the memory of Steve’s hand on his cock, and yeah, this was probably worth it. 

 He was shackled then, which was annoying, but expected. They hauled him to his feet, and Carter spoke into her comm “Can someone contact Captain Rogers?” At the same time, someone patted down his thighs and pulled out his gun. 

_ No.  _ They didn’t get to take his weapons— no! Bucky lashed out, kicking the guard so hard he fell to the ground, but more just surged forwards. 

 “Winter is hostile, I repeat, Winter is hostile!”

 Bucky slammed his head against another grabby agent, who crumpled. He snarled, biting another one. He turned himself in, but he didn’t consent to them  _ taking  _ his  _ things.  _ Suddenly, the sharp, horrible pain of electricity ran up his spine from one of his legs, and he fell forwards, convulsing with it. It stopped, then started up again, making him shake horribly. It went on for an eternity before finally pulling back, but by then, Bucky’s muscles were fried. He couldn’t get up. He was dragged to his feet, and then hauled down a hallway like that. Goddamnit, Steve. 

  
  


———————-

  
  


 Bucky was stripped of his clothing and weapons and put in a jumpsuit. He was a prisoner, but he held out hope that it was only temporary. Steve wouldn’t let them keep him prisoner. 

 By the time his muscular functions began to come back to him, he was already chained to an interrogation table. They weren’t normal restraints, so he couldn’t get out. A woman with brown hair sat across from him, Director Hill. If Bucky wanted to relearn how to smile, she was not going to be the one to teach him. 

 “Please state your name for the record,” she said, like this was a normal, everyday interrogation. Bucky prickled. He’d just gotten his name back, he wasn’t going to give it away to the first person who asked. 

 He didn’t answer, so she continued. “Who are you aligned with?”

 Hydra, obviously. That was his former alignment, though now, technically, he was aligned with the Captain. That’d be giving away too much information though. Bucky didn’t know who was the Captain’s allies and who wasn’t; he’d just have to stay silent until Steve came to him. 

 There were more questions after that, asking what he remembered, why he surrendered, but Bucky kept his face flat and his mouth shut. Finally they gave up and brought him to a cell. He was shoved inside, and the door was locked behind him. No windows. One bedroll in the corner. A toilet. No sink. 

 He paced around his newest cage, trying to reassure himself. Steve was coming for him. Maybe he was already there, running through the building, pushing anyone in his path aside. Hill tried to stop him, and he barreled through her.  _ No! I have to get to Bucky! _

__ The thought reassured him enough that he sat down on the bedroll. He just had to wait this out. The problem was, he’d been too focused on his mission to maintain proper uptake of The Body, which was now suffering. The stomach— his stomach— ached and rolled painfully. He still had scars from the fight, and they wouldn’t heal without proper nourishment. 

 He pounded on the door of the cell until his flesh hand ached and he had to switch to the metal one, but no one came. Was anyone even still in the building? Or had they left him here. Maybe they’d thrown him in this cell when they realized he’d be no use to them, and now they were in the final stages of evacuation before they blew the building, and Bucky with it, to high hell. 

 That didn’t make Bucky any less panicked. He kept pounding on the door,  _ BANG BANG BANG,  _ but there wasn’t so much as a squeak behind it. No one was listening. 

 He banged harder. 

 He used both fists now, screaming. They couldn’t do this. He’d just gotten his memories back! He’d always known God was cruel, but this seemed extreme. It wasn’t fair to give him the smallest sliver of life just to kill him. 

 He screamed louder. 

 Finally, his energy depleted, he sunk to the floor and gave in. No one was coming. He was waiting this one out alone.

  
  


————————

  
  


 A long time passed. Bucky paced the cell a little more, checking for bugs. There were three cameras and two microphones, and he crushed them all. He went back to his corner and waited. 

 And waited. 

 And waited. 

 It was days, at least, until someone finally came in. By that point he had accepted that they weren’t going to blow the building, but they had left him to die. 

 Then the door opened. 

 A man slid in, offering him an extremely uncomfortable smile. “Hey, I’m just going to replace the cameras, okay? Don’t mind me.”

 Bucky minded him. He minded him quite a lot, actually, and made his opinion known by picking him up by the throat and throwing him against the wall. The man was unarmed, so Bucky tore out of his cell with his left arm prepared to strike. He was met with a woman immediately, who he incapacitated without slowing down. 

 Suddenly, he was hit with a surge of electricity. He crumpled to the ground. 

  
  


————————

  
  


 They took his arm from him. They just… popped it out of the metal socket, like it was nothing. Like it was easy. Like it didn’t matter. 

 Nothing mattered. 

 He was brought to another, larger cell, and a familiar looking man came in, whistling. He was one of Steve’s allies, Sam, and he was carrying a manilla folder and a lunch tray. Bucky’s stomach rumbled painfully at the sight of food, but he kept his gaze up, trying to hide it. 

 Sam sat cross legged a few feet from him, setting the stuff down. He smiled. “Hey, man. How’re you feeling?”

 “Where’s your Captain,” Bucky said, surprising himself and Sam both. He hadn’t meant to talk, but this was getting ridiculous. 

 Sam chose his words carefully. “Why do you want to know? Do you… do you want to hurt him?”

 Oh, definitely. The night before, Bucky had dreamt of bruises on collarbones, little red marks and scratches. Steve was a goddamned menace, and he deserved a good working over from time to time. Sam was his ally, he must understand that. 

 Bucky did his not-quite-right smile again. “Yes,” He said confidently. 

 Sam did not smile. 

——————————

  
  


 There were actual people outside his new cell’s door, Bucky realized. They observed him through a one way mirror, trying to come up with strategies. His ears were enhanced, so he could hear when they raised their voices a little. 

 “I’m worried that if we don’t let him see him, he’ll burst in here and cause a jailbreak!—”

 “But we can’t let him see him! You heard Winter, he wants to hurt Steve. What kind of teammates—”

 “I’m sorry Steve, but it’s just not an option at this time. He is highly volatile. We have evidence that he tried multiple times to break into your hospital room, all while fully armed. He has severely injured multiple people since his time here. Whenever someone mentions your name, he gets violent. We believe that his mission is still to kill you, and right now, the worst thing we could do is bring you in. I’m sorry. We will continue giving you updates from a distance.”

 After that one, there was a long pause, like someone talking on the phone. The same woman answered, “The only one who’s had any success at getting him to talk is Sam.”

  
  


————————

  
  


 Sam came back. He fed Bucky, and then opened up his folder, showing him a few papers. 

 Bucky took the first one, looking at it. It read in clear, block print,  **Nod if you can read this.**

Bucky looked up at Sam, who was watching him expectantly. What kind of idiot did they take him for?

 He did not nod, because he was not some goddamned dog who did tricks on command. Fuck this. Fuck SHIELD. Fuck everything. 

 Fuck Steve. 

 “Where is he,” Bucky asked, suddenly angry. “You said you’d bring him to me.”

 Sam swallowed, uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon. But I’m going to keep visiting you, alright?”

 No, it was not  _ fucking alright.  _ Bucky screamed through his teeth, moving to get to his feet, but before he could do anything else bolts of electricity shot out at him from the wall, and he crumpled.

  
  


—————————

  
  


 For the next three days, he refused to eat or drink. When Sam came, Bucky didn’t even move from his corner. 

 Steve didn’t want him. 

 Bucky should’ve known. The extra security at the hospital, the treatment at SHIELD, Sam’s sympathetic looks— Steve didn’t want him. 

 Bucky was such an idiot. Why would Steve want him anyways, damaged as he was. It was… he was… 

 It was unfair. And now, Bucky laid in the corner of his cell like a damn dog, just waiting to die. 

 But the third day though, the sting of hunger became too much. He crawled to the center of the cell, waiting for Sam. He could hear people talking through the door: 

 “...without the ability to complete his mission. He must have shut down settings. He’s been made useless.”

 “Well, what are you suggesting? Should we let him kill Steve so he’s not so goddamn sad?”

 The door opened, and Sam walked in, carrying a tray of food and a pile of magazines. Bucky ate and then let Sam show him the magazines. He needed something to take his mind off his breakup. 

 Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to fucking happen because they weren’t magazines, they were  _ Captain America comic books.  _ Bucky grabbed them away from Sam and ripped out a picture of Steve from the front of one, staring at it intensely. He looked so righteous, so honorable. 

 Bucky tore up the picture, then spat on it.  _ Fuck him.  _ Steve didn’t want Bucky in his broken and deteriorated state, well, fine. So much for righteousness. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


 They were talking about him behind the closed door again. 

 “Keeping him alive like this doesn’t seem much like mercy,” one person said. Bucky agreed. They should let him go. 

 “And we’re not about to get any more information out of him.”

 “No,” Sam said, “Steve’ll never go for it.”

 “Steve’s emotionally compromised. And he’ll stay that way until something is done. His old friend is gone— the Soldier in there doesn’t even know how to read. You think he even has a chance of regaining his old memories?”

 “No, but—”

 “He’s a drain of resources. He’s destroyed our Captain. Whatever’s left of Hydra is probably looking for him. I’m sorry Sam, you tried. But we need to take him out.”

 A shiver went down Bucky’s body. This was not what he’d meant. 

 He listened to them for a little longer. After a while, it became clear that Sam had left, probably not wanting to hear the plans. Bucky didn’t want to hear the plans either, but he listened. Three days. He had three more days, and then they were going to shoot him. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


 Sam came over the next day, looking tired and upset, but he still gave Bucky that same smile. Bucky didn’t try to respond to it. No one wanted to see him smile. 

 “Hey, big guy, how you holding up?” Sam asked. 

 Bucky didn’t respond. It had been a seriously sucky few weeks. He felt sick and weak, unbalanced without his arm, and on top of all that he’d had to deal with the breakup. One of the unquestionable facts of the universe— Steve Rogers loved him— had turned out to be false. 

 “I’ve had a rough couple of nights,” Sam continued, not surprised by the silence. He leaned back, putting his arms around his knees. “I’ve got this friend, and he’s pretty upset. And I’m trying to comfort him, but I’m sorta upset too. You ever experience anything like that?”

 Bucky stayed silent until Sam left. Then, right as Sam stood, Bucky stood too. Sam raised an eyebrow, waiting. 

 Bucky didn’t know how to ask for this. The old Bucky would’ve, but this new, rotten Bucky that not even Steve wanted was too broken to understand. He had forgotten how to be a person, and now he’d never get the chance to learn. 

 He wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip through his fingers, though, so after a few more moments of struggling with himself, Bucky raised his arm. Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Do you… would you like… are you asking for a hug?”

 Bucky hesitated, then nodded, once. If he was going to die…

 Sam’s face went soft and he moved forwards, embracing Bucky. Bucky clasped his arm around him carefully, wanting to squeeze but also not wanting to break him. Then, with careful movements, he slipped a knife out of his belt and pressed it against his neck.

 Sam gasped, trying to step away, but he couldn’t. Bucky had him right where he wanted him. He pressed the knife harder and hissed “ _ Bring me your goddamn Captain,”  _ before shoving him away. 

 There. Bucky had officially tried. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


 No one came to take the knife from him. Maybe they were hoping he’d kill himself, and they wouldn’t have to deal with it. 

 If that was the case, they were flat out of luck.

  
  


—————————-

  
  


 Bucky hadn’t expected it to happen, but the next day, the last full day he had to live, Steve entered the room. Bucky had listened to the people behind the door squabble for a full hour before it finally opened, revealing Steve in his full Captain America uniform. 

 Bucky knew what he must have looked like. He was sitting on the bedroll, jumpsuit and hair filthy from weeks without proper hygiene. His left sleeve hung empty. His eyes, dark from days without sleep, were wide. 

 What was this? The final nail in the coffin? One last torment? Steve didn’t want him, and here he was, in the flesh, to tell him just that.  _ I just wanted to clarify that you aren’t my Bucky and you never will be.  _ Hilarious. 

 Bucky scowled, hoping Steve could see the betrayal currently pounding through him. 

 Steve winced. He tried to smile, but failed. “Hey Buck.”

 Bucky stayed still. If he moved, the walls we’re going to zap him with electricity again, and then he’d be paralyzed for his last hours on Earth. It wasn’t goddamn fair. 

 Steve must have seen him looking at the walls, because he rushed out “I disabled the electricity. Thought it wasn’t fair.”

 “He  _ what?” _ Someone said behind the door. Steve winced again, because he had super hearing too. 

 “I just wanted…” Steve stopped, letting the sentence trail off. “I just wanted to see you. I—”

 Like a flash, Bucky was out of bed and on top of Steve, his knife at his throat. It had taken a moment for the thoughts to process, but now Bucky had a mission. “ _ Shut up _ ,” he hissed, pressing the knife more firmly so Steve would  _ feel _ the threat. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to cooperate, because I’m going to  _ make  _ you cooperate. Keep that goddamn trap of yours shut, otherwise I swear to God I’ll kill you.”

 Steve’s eyes were wide, but he went still, allowing it. And God, Steve was just… so beautiful. So fucking pretty, the way his eyelashes curled, the way he felt underneath him. Curiously, Bucky ground against him slightly, just to see if he could, and yep, there it was. Steve’s eyes went wider. 

 Bucky sheathed the knife so he could have free use of his hand, and started digging around in Steve’s pockets. He wanted a pair of cuffs or something, but the zip tie he found would work too. He shuffled down Steve’s body, using his hand and mouth to zip tie his wrists together in front of him. 

 “Steve!” Someone yelled from outside, “We’re coming in!”

 “No!” Steve yelled. “No, I’ve got this under control!”

 Sam’s voice: “Like hell you do!”

 “Shut up, Wilson!” 

 Bucky yanked Steve to his feet, pulling out the knife again and pressing it to his ex’s throat. His head pounded with memories, drowning him, but Bucky kicked and fought to keep his head above it all. “March,” he growled in Steve’s ear, and they marched right out of the room. 

 Everyone outside had their weapons drawn, obviously, but Bucky was expecting it. He kicked Steve’s shin, and Steve said “Stop! Lower your weapons! Don’t hurt him!”

 “I told you this was a horrible plan,” Hill said, but she lowered her gun. So did Carter, and Wilson, though it took Wilson the longest to.

 “Man, I hope you know what you’re doing.”

 “I’m Captain America, I always— ek!” Steve choked as Bucky started pulling him along again, momentarily cutting of his airwaves. Served him right, abandoning him like that. They were going to get married. They were going to get fucking married, and Steve left him just because he was fucked in the head. It wasn’t right. 

 They took back ways and made it out of the building with only minimum threatening, and then they were out, free. Bucky marched straight up to a woman who was about to get in her car and grabbed her keys from her, shoving her back. 

 “I’m sorry!” Steve I-don’t-know-how-to-shut-my-trap Rogers said. “National emergency!”

 Bucky shoved him unceremoniously in the back seat and climbed in the driver’s seat himself, locking the doors and gunning it. They made it all the way into the countryside before Steve did something stupid, grabbing hold of the steering wheel  and yanking it to the side. They went spinning into a cornfield, hitting the sides of top of the car painfully until they finally stopped. Bucky curled over the wheel, his nose bleeding profusely. 

 He unlocked the doors and stomped out, grabbing Steve and yanking him out behind him. If Steve was a normal victim, this would be an ideal spot to slit his throat and leave him to die, but Steve wasn’t a normal victim. Bucky could never kill him. Still, for a single moment, the idea was incredibly appealing. 

 Bucky dumped Steve on the ground. He looked like he must’ve hit his ribs, because he stayed there, pressing his hand to his side painfully. He deserved it. It was his own goddamn fault they crashed, the moron. He’d never do anything to endanger civilians, but when his own life was at risk? Sure, why not! Might as well just crash a car into a fucking corn field, the dumbass. 

 “You goddamn maniac!” Bucky accused, not able to hold it in anymore. “Do you realize how fucking stupid that was? And now we’re stuck! Do you know how long it’ll take to walk to the nearest city, dipshit?!”

 Steve looked slightly confused, but he set his jaw. “I’m not letting you take me to Hydra.”

 “Yeah, that makes two of us Bozo. You dumb little shit.”

 Steve frowned. “Bucky?”

 Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped over Steve and shoved him all the way down, pinning him with his presence. “You don’t get to call me that,” he spat, all of the anger and betrayal coming up at once. “You don’t— I’m not your Bucky anymore. You made that pretty fucking clear.”

 Steve’s frown increased by 50%. “Buck, what are you—”

 “You left me!” Bucky yelled, not caring that he was getting in Steve’s face. “You left me, you goddamned… asshole! You said you’d always want me, you said… you said you’d always  _ love _ me, but you  _ lied!  _ I hate you, I hate you, I hate you I hate you I hate—!”

 Bucky was cut off by Steve pulling him down. Bucky fell harshly against Steve’s chest, and Steve wheezed a little, but just held him closer. It was… oh. So this was how a real hug went. Bucky buried his face in Steve’s neck and sniffled. 

 “Oh, Bucky,” Steve said, brushing his hand along Bucky’s matted, greasy hair. “I thought you were gone.”

 “You actually  _ were  _ gone,” Bucky sniffled. “You  _ left _ me.”

 Steve’s chest hitched, and his voice came out cracked and upset. No matter what Bucky did, he was always making Stevie upset. “I thought— you couldn’t read, Bucky! They said all you wanted was to kill me, I thought—”

 “No,” Bucky said, shaking his head against him. “No, all I wanted  _ was  _ you. I hate you, you goddamned punk.”

 “I love you too.” 

 Bucky was not responsible for the waterworks that followed. He was brain damaged, alright? His emotional centers must have gotten fucked up in the process; that was the only logical explanation. 

 Finally, Steve pushed Bucky back, and he went, albeit hesitantly. He wiped his nose with his one good hand. “I’m a fucking mess.”

 “You are,” Steve said, smiling like he was looking at something beautiful. “I’m a mess too.”

 “Shut up.”

 They concluded that Steve’s ribs were most likely bruised, but he shrugged it off like that wasn’t unusual. “Now come on,” he said, sitting up for real and pulling Bucky to his side. “We have to call the others.”

 “No,” Bucky said immediately, still feeling incredibly fragile. “You can’t. They’ll. They want. They’re gonna kill me. Tomorrow, they said. They didn’t know I overheard.”

 Steve looked absolutely stricken. Apparently, they hadn’t told him yet. 

 “They’re not gonna kill you now,” he promised. “Not with me around.”

 “They’ll just make you leave. Like before.”

 Steve huffed and dug around his belt, finally pulling out a pair of reinforced handcuffs. Bucky blinked at them, because 1) how did he miss those in the first place, and 2) he’d ziptied Steve’s hands together earlier. That punk must’ve broken them off in the backseat, which meant that he could always break them, but had chosen to keep them on until he and Bucky were out. When Bucky said that Steve had the self preservation of a tuna sandwich, he wasn’t exaggerating. 

 “Give me your hand,” Steve said. Bucky didn’t know what he was doing, but he really, really wanted to trust Steve. He gave him his hand. 

 Steve cuffed him, and then attached the other end of the cuffs to his left wrist. They were cuffed together, and Steve adjusted his left arm to go around Bucky’s waist, holding him to his side. “I’m not letting anyone take you away from me again, understand?”

 Everything was beginning to hit Bucky at once. “You goddamn punk,” he muttered, leaning into Steve’s side. 

 “Yeah, I know. I’m going to call them now, alright? We need a new ride anyways.”

 Bucky groaned, but let him. 

  
  


—————————

  
  


 True to his word, Steve didn’t let Bucky go. Not through the awkward car ride, where they had to sit together in the cramped back of the van, not at SHIELD, where a half dozen different people looked at Steve like he was crazy and at Bucky like he was ravenous, and not later that day, when Bucky was forced into another interrogation with Steve at his side. 

 “What’s your name,” Hill asked. 

 Bucky didn’t reply. She didn’t deserve it. 

 Steve nudged him softly. “Hey? Do you remember?”

 Bucky frowned at him, still emotionally drained from the day. “It’s my own goddamn name, of course I remember.” That hadn’t always been true, but it was now.

 “Then why don’t you tell her?”

 “Don’t wanna.”

 “You see how this may have gone south,” Hill said, accusatory. “You see how we may have gotten the wrong impression.”

 “You scared him,” Steve defended immediately. “He’s the victim.”

 Hill rolled her eyes, but continued the interrogation. 

 When they got to the part where Hill asked if Bucky remembered any of the missions he went on with Hydra, Bucky looked up at Steve pleadingly. Steve got the message immediately. “You told me in the field that you didn’t, right Bucky? They wiped you after each mission so you wouldn’t remember?”

 Bucky let out a sigh of relief. It was a lie, of course, but Steve knew what would happen if SHIELD thought Bucky had information. “Right,” Bucky said quietly. 

 Hill looked unimpressed. “You don’t remember your most recent missions, but you remember someone from seventy years ago—”

 “Steve’s memorable,” Bucky defended. “And anyways. That’s different.”

 Steve nuzzled his gross hair then, even going so far as to kiss it. Hill looked disgusted. 

 “I think we’re done for today,” Steve decided, standing up and pulling Bucky with him.

 Hill stood, opening her mouth to stop them, but Steve said “Agent, just don’t.”

 They strode out of the building still locked together. They were going to Steve’s apartment in the tower, which was apparently owned by the Iron Man. “He’s a little annoyed at you,” Steve admitted, “but he’ll understand.”

 That was probably the understatement of the century, but Bucky didn’t care. Where Steve went, he would follow. He’d finally gotten his Stevie back.

  
  
  


\--------------------------

  
  


 The Iron Man— who was apparently named Stark— took them in with open arms. Well, openish. He seemed less than pleased, but Steve had his “I’m Captain America And I Do What I Want” face on, so Stark allowed it. He did however, warn Bucky that there was constant surveillance. 

 “We also have showers,” he suggested, giving Bucky a grossed out once-over. “Feel free to utilize them.”

 “Thanks Tony,” Steve called over his shoulder, already walking away. 

 Up in Steve’s quarters, Steve un-cuffed them and pointed Bucky towards the shower. “It’ll probably be nice,” he suggested, which was Steve for ‘you really do need it’. Bucky ducked his head and went, but his heart was still thumping along happily. Once he was cleaned up, he wandered out into the room where Steve was laying on his bed, pretending to look at his phone. 

 “Clothes,” Bucky mumbled. Steve blinked at him a few times, apparently not expecting to see him in the nude. Bucky frowned. “This is normal?”

 Steve cleared his throat. “It, uh. Was. Sorta. I mean. I’ll get you the clothes.”

 Bucky thought hard. He knew there was something he was supposed to say there, but he couldn’t remember what. What would the old Bucky say?

 “Or maybe not,” he said, startling Steve out of his path to the dresser. He smiled in what was supposed to be a sly way, but probably ended up threatening. “I, um. Remember. Other things.”

 Steve still looked like a deer in headlights. “You do?”

 “Yes,” Bucky repeated, unsure at first, then again, “Yes.”

 Steve swallowed. “I— Okay. I’m going to get you clothes anyways.”

 The happy thumping slowed a little bit. “Oh. You don’t—”

 “I do,” Steve corrected quickly, “Just… I just got you back. I don’t… I want to take care of you. That wouldn’t…”

 Bucky frowned. “Okay. But later?”

 “Later,” Steve agreed. He pulled out a bundle of clothes from the dresser and walked over to Bucky, wrapping an arm around his waist to help him balance as he bent down to kiss him, slow and chaste. Steve sighed against his mouth. “Definitely later.”

 Bucky thumped his head against Steve’s chest. “Also. I want my arm back.”

 Steve laughed breathily against him, his chest vibrating underneath Bucky’s forehead. “Okay. I can probably give you a hand with that.”

 “Shut up, punk.”

 “Yes Bucky.”

 Bucky punched him once with his flesh hand, just for good measure, but he didn’t mean it. He thumped his head back against Steve’s chest, enjoying the way they slotted together so neatly. His Stevie. Bucky may not be a person yet, but Steve would help. Steve always helped. 

**Author's Note:**

> The best way to support my works is to comment!


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